15

Monday November 21

I am frozen, unable to make the slightest gesture. Mr. Archer has entered my office and slowly walks towards me. My heart resumed its mad race, the same as it started this very morning in the elevator. I'm more than feverish, every cell in my body is shaking but I can't interpret these signs. Is it anxiety? Stress? Excitement? An explosive mixture of the three seems to me to be the right answer. While a cataclysm is just waiting to explode inside me, I try to control my breathing and analyze the situation. It is late, a priori we are alone in these premises and I do not think I am wrong in saying that an incomprehensible attraction seems to be born. I force myself to hold his gaze in order to anticipate what will happen next. What I'

My boss is standing upright facing my desk and his eyes are unreadable. His gaze is impenetrable. I have in front of me two brown shields which prevent any introspection. I read no desire, no fire, no urgency. There's no animosity in him, I can barely discern a hint of nervousness but I'm not even sure. It's closed like an oyster and I've never had to deal with its neutral facet before. It unsettles me. I'm about to clear my throat to break this silence that has yet to settle between us when he takes the lead:

-Miss Dumin, I would like to take a look at the Royal Beauty file, I want to see where you are and analyze in more detail the direction you have taken.

I absolutely did not expect a professional discussion. His so masculine voice is composed, calm and controlled and I always struggle to remain unmoved. And it's fucking hard when my body decides to rebel against my reason. It's as if he was asking for it, as if my skin wanted to feel his fingers brushing it again, as if my neck was just waiting for his warm breath... But the reality is that I'm alone. in this state. Only his closed fists and his bleached knuckles draw a shadow on the board of his detached and distant attitude. I'm completely lost again.

Coming to my senses, I gather all the documents relating to the blue folder, put them away properly and hand the cover to my boss. My hand is hardly shaking and I'm glad for that. When he grabs the file, his gesture is abrupt as if he was afraid of burning himself. His fingers do not brush mine and a wave of disappointment tries to make its way into my stomach. Without thanking me or giving me another look, he turns on his heels and heads for the door.

His buttocks sublimely molded in his dark gray pants call my eyes and I suddenly feel my mouth dry. Damn that man is sexy! He leaves as quickly as he arrived, leaving the door ajar, the only proof of his quick passage. Completely taken aback by what just happened, I sit down in my chair to reconnect my neurons.

This morning, our meeting created sparks, causing the beginnings of fireworks in my body and clouding my thoughts, totally obsessed with this man who sucked all my oxygen. His hands on either side of my body that hardly touched me, his chest a few millimeters from mine, his eyes that slowly undressed me... These gestures were both thoughtful and instinctive. It's as if he wanted to play but got caught up in the game. And tonight, when we were alone in an isolated room, he acted as if nothing had ever happened. But I am unable to.

A loud voice echoing in the hallway snaps me out of my thoughts. I distinguish the voice of my boss followed by a female voice which is not unknown to me but which I cannot unmask. Snippets of conversations reach me and I listen curiously.

-... reserved a table... I'm waiting for you...

-... only thirty minutes...

-...almost late...

I then make out Mr. Archer who is nervously patient in the corridor, his leather jacket deliciously resting on his shoulders. He seems in a hurry, given the incessant glances he throws at his watch. Mrs. Saint-Martin joins him and without speaking a word, they leave together towards the elevators. Silence returns to the hallway and I finally decide to go home.

As I drive, I still think about Mr. Archer and his incessant mood swings. Even if this man seems very mysterious, I managed to decipher some of his reactions today and I am all the more upset. In the elevator, his jerky breathing and dilated pupils betrayed his confusion despite his apparent mastery and tonight, his clenched fists proved to me that he was holding himself back, as if he was holding himself back. He's apparently better than me at keeping up appearances, even if he wasn't completely successful. I can't get my mind off the idea that I'm not the only one to have felt this excessive attraction, even if tonight he was colder than an iceberg. I don't know what I expected from his surprise visit, sure to pick up where we left off this morning. And that's why I'm panicking. I even panic completely at the idea that this man can put me in such a state in such a short time, especially since he is my boss! I really don't understand what is going on between us, but it has to stop immediately.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure that a man as attractive as Mr. Archer must either already be in a relationship or chain the women of a night. There is no way that behind his machismo facade hides a gentleman who is wisely waiting for love. Bullshit! The few times I met him, I detected a ladies' man, aware of his power of seduction and who likes to play it.

Not having noticed an alliance (yes, I have already checked!), I would therefore go for the latter option. I imagine the long list of his conquests and I would bet my hand if I was not the first to have been charmed by his aura. Nor the last! It is out of the question that my name appears on this list. And if there is one principle that I will not depart from, it is that of a stable and gentle relationship. I absolutely do not want a purely physical story, without feeling and without promise. I am totally incapable of it and beyond that, I find this kind of relationship unhealthy. For me, sentimental and physical love are inseparable. So that's another reason to get away from Mr Archer as soon as possible!

I go home with relief, reassured to find my soft and familiar cocoon. As I'm getting ready to eat, I get a call from Cass.

-My Candice, I hope you're in great shape! And if this is not the case, I advise you to do a sleep cure for the next few days because you and I are going to shake our buttocks until the end of the night on Saturday!

-What ? But what are you talking to me about? I managed to stammer between two laughs.

-You, me and maybe the girls too, Saturday night, cocktails, music and a dance floor. It's our program and you have absolutely no excuse not to accompany me.

- And it is in what honor, this crazy Saturday that you are preparing for us?

I know my Cassiopeia and if she improvises an evening it's because she either has something to celebrate or something to forget.